


From Below, He Saw Darkness

by oresama



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Third Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oresama/pseuds/oresama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain someone's departure from the world leaves Mikoto with a strange feeling, one he is unable to understand -- but he's sure of one thing: It's not pleasant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Below, He Saw Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> a simple drabble timed shortly after totsuka's death, featuring a bit of mikoto's state of mind and reflections.

It had come more as a shock than anything that day — the news, that is. Of **his** death.

Naturally, chaos followed. Chaos, confusion, anger, and hurt. Lots of hurt.

===

_**“Don’t worry… Everything will be fine.”** _

_“Totsuka-san, don’t go to sleep!”_

_Tears, pleas. A final breath._

_**“...I’m sorry.”** _

===

_“Mikoto, I have some bad news.”_

===

Members of HOMRA believed that life as they knew it would roll downhill from there without **his** presence by their side — without **his** cheerfulness, without **his** bright smiles, without **his** kind heart, without the peace **he** brought.

That’s what they’d thought.

But nothing changed.

One by one, days passed. The clan lived on without **him**. People breathed without **him**.

Life managed on fine without **him**.

Except for Mikoto.

Granted, he was just as intent on finding who the killer was as were the other members of his clan. They were HOMRA, after all. They were a family, and they sought revenge.

They sought to spill blood.

But time seemed to stand still for Mikoto. His quiet anger that had sprouted from the incident was contrary to the usual burning sensation of hatred. Usually, his fury was the type that tingled through his arms and to his fingertips in search for physical contact — in search for something to burn to ground.

This anger, this pain, however... was dull.

He could still hear **his** voice echoing inside his head, calming as always, soothing as always. As if nothing had changed. As if **he** were still there.

===

_**“Welcome home, King.”** _

_“Hn.”_

_**“What would you like for dinner today?”** _

_“…Curry.”_

_**”Ah, but actually, I’ve already made something – look, it's tom yum goong!”** _

===

Mikoto looked to the side, towards the bar which Kusanagi left to his care while he went out shopping for dinner ingredients. The bar where **he** once sat, with **his** foolish little guitar and **his** foolish little song and **his** foolish little smile that, somehow, always seemed to illuminate the entire room every time, every single time, without fail.

He looked towards the bar that now lacked the happiness that it had harbored only such a short time ago.

It felt empty now. Everything did.

Mikoto looked away with a distasteful sigh and reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He tapped the box and shook out a stick, then leaned back against the sofa and lit it.

Routine.

_You left me behind this time, you fool._

He inhaled deeply, rolling the taste of nicotine around in his mouth, then parted his lips to blow it out.

Inhale, exhale.

It was really quite simple for a human to move on after another’s death; to keep living and breathing; to keeping looking towards the bleak tomorrow.

Inhale, exhale.

Breathing. That was what helped him keep his temper under control in the old days, when **he** was still around. The risk of hurting **his** fragile body had always been too big; Mikoto preferred to play it safe rather than to eradicate **him** in a split second of anger.

Inhale, exhale.

 _Lots of good_ that _did him._

It didn't matter anymore.

It never had.

===

_**“King.”** _

_“What now?”_

_**“You’ll remember what I said, right?”** _

_“…”_

_A chuckle. That quiet, musical laughter of his. **“That your power isn't meant for hurting others, King. Your power was made to protect.”**_

===

_…Lots of shit good that did, too._

Mikoto snubbed out his half-burnt cigarette, no longer in the mood for the cancer stick.

Inhale, exhale.

He simply brooded.

It wasn't as if anything would have changed in the future if **he** had survived the bullet wound.

Everyone dies one day, either way. It’s only a matter of how early on in their life they meet their end.

Mikoto sighed and tilted his gaze towards the ceiling; his head rested back against the sofa while thoughts enveloped his mind.

_This is stupid._

“You fool…”

_As if he can hear me anymore._

“I’ll be there with you soon.”

_He’s gone now._

Inhale, exhale.

“So… wait for me.”

===

Silence.

===

**“I’ll be waiting for you, King.”**

**“Always.”**

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo, this is my first work on this site. this was written at 3am under the covers, so pardon me for anything that is unclear. (it's crap tbh, i know otl;;) in short, at the end, italicized are mikoto's thoughts, while the words he speaks contradicts them. there'll be another sequel(?) drabble coming after this, told from totsuka's view instead. any feedback is greatly appreciated! thank you for reading ♪


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